Homosexual Archives

Feeling Like a Kid Among Adults

I went to Body Electric in Berkeley, California to try out their Thursday night tantric male massage sessions. I had a great time. There were about 40 men there. We all got naked, then broke into random groups of three. Each group surrounded a massage table. We each got a 20-minute massage from the other two guys. The massages started with a perfunctory general massage, but soon turned into genital massage. But this was a ‘tantric’ thing. I didn’t really understand the philosophy. The general idea seemed to be that one can, probably even should, become erect, but not ejaculate. For me, it was difficult to avoid orgasming, but I managed to hold off for the full twenty minutes when it was my turn. I really enjoyed massaging the other two guys as well. I went home horny and charged up. It was an interesting experience. I felt clearer than usual, as if colors were brighter, quiet sounds more noticeable, and smells more interesting.

Of course as soon as I got home, I wanked and ejaculated big-time, but even still, I felt slightly better than average the whole next day.

I returned a week later and participated in another three-way massage. Before starting, I asked the instructor whether it would be OK to forego the general massage portion, and have the guys go right into the genital massage when it was my turn. He said that was fine. I then asked if it was OK to ejaculate. I expected some lecture about how that’s not within the paradigm of what they’re doing there. Instead, he said that’s just fine also. I also asked to go last, because I knew what might happen. If I was first or second, and then I ejaculated, I would loose interested in massaging the other guys.

So, I went last. When it was my turn, I came after about ten minutes, and immediately felt foolish. Worse, I still had ten minutes to go. The guys tried to keep me hard and interested, but frankly, the last ten minutes, while not quite torture, were less than ideal as I went soft, and was quite bothered by the ongoing touch.

Bottom line: I felt like a stupid kid among adults after doing that. I’m slowly learning in life that most people have reasons for what they do. Being a rebel, trying to do things differently, is not always the best way to do things.

What Do You Like?

My flight was delayed. I met a guy in the restaurant bar who was also delayed. We were scheduled on the same plane. It turns out we live in the same city. The minutes turned into hours. He and I got to talking, because what else was there to do?

Our conversation became more intimate. I was divorced. He had been a serial dater, but never married.

The conversation deepened. We were pretty much whispering because although there was quite a bit of noise in the bar, what we were talking about became, well, quite private.

We were talking about masturbation. We were agreeing with each other that it’s a good thing. We went on to agree that if everyone was more accepting of masturbation, it might cure some of the world’s ills. Like overpopulation and unwanted children. Like STDs.

Then he asked a weird question, “What masturbatory thing would you like, but you can’t do it to yourself?”

Normally, I’d never answer a question like that. I’d be shocked. But the way this conversation had been unfolding, it seemed fine to give him my answer:

“I have this fantasy of being tied down, and have someone rub the palm of their hand over the tip of my erect dick. It’s a feeling I can’t stand, and can’t get enough of, all at the same time.”

“Ah, I know the feeling,” he said, adding, “You know, I’ve always been surprised that with a little oil, the feeling is even more intense than with a dry hand. Plus it doesn’t rub the tip of your penis raw.”

I was glad to have some solidarity. Someone who experienced something like me, and was willing to talk about it. Because, face it, sex with women is great, but there can be something missing. Most women are into kissing, dating, and the whole package. Sometimes a guy just wants to get off. Sometimes a guy wants something weird, that most women wouldn’t understand.

“What do you like?”

“I like my balls massaged. Really hard, like rolfing.”

I knew exactly what he was talking about. While I’m not so much a fan of that, I can enjoy a good, firm ball massage.

He went on to say, “But I don’t care for oral, anal, kissing or any of that.”

I was delighted, because that describes me to a tee.

They got the airplane fixed and we boarded, but not before exchanging phone numbers.

A day later he called. “When can we get together?”

I knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Dude, I’m available right now.”

Fifteen minutes later found me in his apartment. We did all the things we discussed. It was even better than I could have imagined. He rubbed the tip of my penis so perfectly that not only did I squirm, yell, and carry on, I even involuntarily let out a little pee a couple of minutes before cumming.

I squeezed his balls so hard I thought they’d pop. He informed me that they are like chicken gizzards. Rubbery. You can’t pop them with your fingertips. You just have to be careful not to injure the back sides where the cords attach. I kind of knew that, but it was reassuring to hear. He was yelling, he was wincing, he was loving it. He kept wanting me to squeeze harder. It kept me very erect doing that to him.

He came without me even touching his penis. Then, he offered the same treatment to me. I had to ask him to be gentler, but found myself very much enjoying the testicle massage. I came a second time, but only because he let go of my scrotum, slowly buried a finger deep in my rectum, and jerked me off with his other hand.

We meet up every month or two. Most of the time we are happy with ourselves or the various ladies we meet. But every now and then, we want something really intense, and we know exactly how to give it to each other.

Cum Forced Backward

He is around 38 years old, white, medium height, slightly thinner than average, keeps his hair short, shaves most of his light body hair including his genital area, and works in the high-tech industry. He has a girlfriend, and I am married.

His girlfriend seldom ‘puts out’, and my wife says her hormones have shifted, so she’s no longer interested in sexual activities. So, he and I, although we don’t think of ourselves as gay, enjoy playing with each other very much.

We don’t kiss, do blowjobs or any of that. We just like our mutual masturbation.

He likes it rough, and sometimes I do too. We generally edge each other for an hour or so, then one of us goes too far and cums. The other then receives some more attention until he ejaculates also.

I particularly like ball massage, and glans rubbing. That’s when someone, male or female, rubs the palm of their hand over the tip of my dick. Oddly, the sensation is stronger with oil than dry. This glans rubbing business is hard to take. At first it makes one squirm and want to get away, but in a while, it transmutes into a combination of gonna cum or gotta pee feeling that is quite delicious and can keep one on the edge for quite a while.

My friend likes to be fisted, and I’m happy to do that for him from time to time. We have also experimented with sounding. I once worked a length of sterilized aquarium tubing all the way into his bladder. He orgasmed with the tube all the way in, and nothing came out. The ejaculation was blocked by the tubing.

The other night, as I was rubbing his rock-hard penis, and keeping him just below the threshold of cumming, we started talking about that ejaculation that was blocked. He said it was particularly enjoyable and seemed to last longer than the typical orgasm. I have experimented with blocked ejaculations a few times, and found the orgasms did last longer than usual.

I proposed that I might try something I have fantasized about, but would be too chicken to have it done to me. He is more adventurous than I am, and does rather like the rough stuff. I said could bring him to orgasm, and hold it inside by squeezing the tip of his penis. Then, after he came, since he likes various forms of post-orgasm stimulation, I would try to milk him backward. Starting from the tip of his penis which would still be held closed, I’d squeeze farther and farther down his shaft, forcing the sperm backward. I’d continue pressing past his balls, down as far as I could reach to the base of his penis, even reaching my fingers into his asshole if necessary, until the ejaculate was squeezed all the way into his bladder.

He was very enthusiastic about the idea. So, we proceeded. With this exciting new idea, he grew even harder, and came back to the brink of orgasm, where he had already been several times during the past hour. But this time, I kept going, and as his orgasm started, I did pinch the tip of his dick. But it was hard to get a good grip. My fingers wanted to slip off due to the oil we had been using. I tried to get a better grip without losing the grip I had. I didn’t want any sperm to leak out. It seemed like his orgasm was lasting longer than usual, and sure enough, I just couldn’t maintain a good grip between my thumb and the side of my forefinger, and a squirt of semen shot into the air. It was under pressure, so it shot a good three feet!

I quickly got a better grip just below the tip with my other hand, and at that point, I noticed something quite weird: He was still orgasming and the contractions were very, very strong. It was quite obvious. I could feel his dick pulsing strongly in the one hand, and my other hand, which had been pressing lightly on the spot just ahead of his anus felt convulsions there too. I had placed my hand on that perineum area expressly for the purpose of feeling his pulsing orgasm, and was rewarded with some remarkably strong pulses. But not just a few. He kept going and going. I was quite surprised that he was still orgasming.

As I was noticing all that, my grip was slipping again, and another squirt of sperm escaped, and shot well into the air again, landing in sprinkles against his stomach. WTF? He was still orgasming! I tried improving my grip, but didn’t get it right, and yet another squirt slipped out. Finally, I got a good grip, and after what had been probably a full minute, his orgasmic contractions weakened and subsided. Needless to say, we were both quite amazed.

I have had a lot of masturbatory experience in my life, and I’ve never seen anything like this. In all my experiences at the San Francisco Masturbate-A-Thon, SF Jacks, male tantric massages in Berkeley, the Power Exchange, and all sorts of experimentation with friends of both sexes, I have never seen a male orgasm last anywhere near as long as this one did, and have never seen such strong contractions.

I don’t know if it is something specific to my friend, or whether it could be like that for everyone who has an ejaculation blocked in just the right way. I certainly want to find out, and will be experimenting further.

Unfortunately, I had lost a good bit of the sperm I had hoped to trap, but there was still some in his urethra. Perhaps if I had trapped it all, the orgasm would have lasted longer, and been even stronger. I started the process of squeezing it back toward his bladder, and did my best, squeezing down and down. Past his balls. Around the bottom area under his balls, and finally into his asshole. I don’t really know whether I managed to actually move any sperm back or not. And don’t yet know whether I was able to get anything actually into his bladder.

I’m going to ask him next time I see him, probably in a few days. But better than that, I’m pretty sure he’ll want to try again. This time, I’ll make sure to get a better grip, so I can trap all the sperm, then there will be enough to tell for sure whether it is being forced back into his bladder. I might have him do it to me, too.

You might enjoy a similar memoir: Cum Blocking Friend.

Unexpected Bisexual Exposure

I met a woman who I found quite attractive. We were both 26 years old. She and I became friends, but nothing more. When I tried to expand it to a sexual relationship, she told me not only that she was lesbian, but lived with her girlfriend. She was kind about it, and we remained friends.

I told her that I admired her openness about her lesbianism, and mentioned that I am bisexual, although I was quite closeted about it at the time.

One day, she invited me to dinner with her girlfriend. I kind of knew something was brewing, but didn’t quite know what. When I arrived, it was her, her girlfriend, me, and they introduced me to Gary, and attractive nineteen-year-old kid.

After dinner, and a long, enjoyable conversation well into the evening, the two women told us two guys that we were free to stay over, that we could sleep on the floor of their living room. They gave us blankets and pillows. Gary and I bedded down about six feet away from each other on the thick carpet.

Shortly after the two women went upstairs, Gary scooted up next to me and said something like, “So, you want to fool around?”

I didn’t need an engraved invitation. Within a minute, he had put his hand in my underpants, and I responded in kind, finding his already erect penis under the blanket by feel. Within 15 seconds he kind of curled up, and pushed my hand away. I felt wetness on my fingertips.

The poor fellow had ejaculated just that quickly. That was the end of our fooling around that evening. I realized he wouldn’t be in the mood to finish me, and frankly, I wasn’t in the mood to do anything more anyway. We fell asleep.

In the morning, the four of us had a nice breakfast, then the women and I went off to work, while Gary went to his college class.

The four of us never hooked up again, although we’d see each other around town from time to time, wave, smile, and say “Hi!”

The take-away for me was that it’s really easy to hook up with guys – or girls. Somehow, after that, I was much less reluctant to hide my bisexuality, and as a result, I’ve had many good casual and some long-lasting relationships with people of all sexes.

Tough Guys (And Girls) Club

The first few days of high school were confusing, as I suppose it is for most kids. This was a huge inner city school, full of kids of all colors, but I wasn’t afraid even though I was small for my age. The school had a reputation for being ‘safe.’ Plus, it didn’t hurt that my mom is a martial arts instructor. She works for big corporations, teaching women tricks to avoid and overcome attacks. From as far back as I can remember, she and I have enjoyed ‘playing,’ which was really me being taught self-defense.

None of that mattered to me. I was fourteen years old, and the only thing on my mind was girls, and jerking off, probably in the reverse order. I jerked off at least once a day, and on one day, I had wanked five times. I loved my dick, and dicks in general. Not in a gay way – I think – but just was interested in how other boys jerk off, what they feel and so on. Oh, I looked at the internet. Who doesn’t? I saw the smooth women with big tits, and that would always send me into ejaculation in no time! What can I say? I’m a big tits guy.

About a week after school started, I saw a big guy smash a smaller guy up against a locker, and throw some significant cuss words at his victim. I couldn’t help myself. As the big guy was raring up to bash the little guy again, something happened to him causing him to fall on his face. That something was me.

He got up, and started aiming for me. Now, I was scared. He was at least 50 pounds heavier than me, and had that bully look in his eyes. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to handle this. He came toward me as I was frantically reviewing in my head all the moves my mom had taught me, trying to figure out what to do. He swung his big arm, fist closed, as I cringed. The blow never came. An even bigger guy had grabbed the bully in a bear hug, saying, “Not today.” The bear hug turned into a throw, as the bully was tossed thirty feet down the hallway.

I thanked the big guy who may have saved me from a bad situation. His said his name was Jason. He seemed uninterested in me, just saying,”You’re welcome,” before walking away into the crowded hallway.

A few days later, in another crowded hallway between classes, I interceded in another altercation. Two girls had gotten into a fight, and fifty other kids formed a circle around them, just watching. Well, not just watching. They were taunting and egging the two girls on. It was really quite vicious. Without thinking it through, I pushed through the crowd, and broke the two girls up, being careful not to get hurt with wild grabs and punches myself.

Soon after, I found myself breaking up yet a third fight. I once again had to apply some of the things Mom taught me to avoid getting hurt and to make sure the bully was stopped. I’m sorry to report he got a black eye out of the deal. Someone asked how I did what I did. I just said, “My mother taught me Judo.”

That afternoon, a big guy came up to me, telling me his name was Nick. He seemed friendly, but I was wary. He could be another bully trying to pick on a smaller kid. He asked me whether I thought I was a “tough guy.”

‘Oh, oh,’ I was thinking. He wants to start something. I said, “No, I’m certainly not a tough guy.”

“I think you are.”

Fuck. I was becoming worried. Not that I couldn’t probably take this guy out with martial arts, but even when you win, you lose in such situations. First, I might get physically hurt. But also, I could get punished by the school, or would start being picked on by other bullies who thought I was a fighter.

Perhaps noticing my expression, he quickly added, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was actually sent to invite you to something.”

I was remembering the TV series Glee. I was literally thinking he was going to try to get me to join the glee club, or the chess club or something.

It turns out he wanted me to join the Tough Guys Club. He explained that there’s a group of guys in the school that defend against violence. It’s been a tradition in the school since 1975. That’s the reason this school is known as safe. The club isn’t exactly secret, but they do keep a low profile. He also explained that while most of the ‘tough guys’ are juniors or seniors, they could use me. They thought I could teach them the techniques they saw me use in the fights.

I was doubtful, but he talked me into attending a meeting. When I accepted, he hesitated a moment, then blushing, he said, “But there’s one thing: we meet Roman style.”

“Huh?”

“In ancient Rome, the men got together in what were called ‘baths.’ There they discussed the events of the day, they played games, and they had a good time.”

“So?”

Again he hesitated. Then he blurted out, “They were naked.”

“And so?”

Oh! I got it! These tough guys meet naked! A flood of emotions came over me. I had always wanted to be with a group of naked people. I had jerked off many times imagining myself in orgies, in circle jerks, being watched by a crowd while fucking, and so on. A group of naked guys, how cool was that? I mean, it would be even better if it were a mixed group, guys and girls, but this could be absolutely exciting in its own right. But then some sort of fear came over me, too. This was very weird, right?

So there I was, facing a decision. Right then and there, I could decline, and be saved from whatever weirdness this invitation might involve. But then, I’d miss out on what I thought was the biggest and best opportunity of my young life. I smiled at him, and accepted.

Thursday afternoon I was invited to Jason’s house. I explained I had no way to get there, and it was a long walk. Between classes, a big guy I hadn’t met came walking right up to me, then passed me a note. It said, “I’ll drive you there and back.” His name, Kevin, and phone number was on the note.

Between classes, I called my mom, and asked her if I could come home late, explaining I was trying out an after-school martial arts club. She was delighted.

I was nervous on the ride over. I asked Kevin questions about the Tough Guys Club. He was mostly talking about the history, like how they started over 40 years ago, and that the tradition had been passed down year after year. He said the school officials stay uninvolved because they know it’s a good thing, but they can’t endorse it – you know, possible lawsuits and things.

I tried to ask about the nudity and all, but I didn’t find out any details. Again that term, “Roman” came up, then he went back into history, telling me about how other inner city schools had riots and things, and how the academic standard was higher here, due in no small part to the Tough Guys.

Part of my nervousness was natural. Who wouldn’t be all freaked out about taking your clothes off with a bunch of other people? But part was due to my development, or lack thereof. I had like five or six scraggly hairs on my crotch. That’s all. I knew they’d grow in eventually, but at the moment, I looked like a child. My neighbor, on the other hand, had a full forest of hair at age eleven. Go figure!

We got there. There were twenty kids, all big kids, except me, crowded into Jason’s living room. His parents both worked evening shifts at the hospital, so the house was all ours. He explained that the parents knew about the Tough Guys Club, and supported it. In fact, his father had been a member twenty-some years before.

Two of the boys were already undressed. Fully naked, sitting on a sofa. Oh, my god: One of them was sporting a boner! He seemed oblivious, like sitting naked in a room full of boys with a boner was the most natural thing in the world. The other guys were equally unconcerned – like it was no big deal to have an erection in the group.

Everyone was talking about everything as the boys were undressing. I kind of hung back a bit taking off only my shirt. Somehow, my reputation had preceded me. Several guys came up to me asking questions about martial arts. They seemed genuinely interested, and more, they were downright friendly. Inviting. Acting as if I had always been a part of their family or something.

Now, most of the guys were fully naked, and here I was still only shirtless. I knew what I had to do. Otherwise I’d be embarrassed as a prude or something. So, I took off my clothes. When in Rome… right?

They had pushed the furniture out of the way in the large, deeply carpeted living room, and covered the floor with plastic sheeting, then bed sheets and large towels. These big kids started mock fighting. Some were throwing punches, some were wrestling. More than one was fully erect. I was delighted, but still a little scared. My heart was racing. Just what I was scared of, I don’t know. I don’t think it was that I was small and nearly hairless in a sea of big hairy guys. I think it was just the newness of the situation. For whatever it’s worth, not one of them said anything about my underdeveloped nature. I mean, they could have teased me endlessly about that. On the other hand, they could have teased the erect ones about being ‘gay’ or something. But there was no teasing at all.

Still, I was willing myself not to become erect. I somehow figured that would be a bad thing. As I was watching the fighting, I was thinking to myself, ‘It’s too bad they don’t know what I know. They’re being terribly inefficient. They’d be so much better at this if they knew a few of the moves my mom taught me.’

After watching ten minutes of all this fake fighting and tussling around on the floor, one of the guys tried to tackle me. Suddenly, I was involved in the fun free for all. Because he was large, I focused, and I guess I rolled him a little too hard. He said, “Oomph,” as he hit the floor. I didn’t hurt him, and he came up laughing. He asked, “How did you do that?”

Suddenly, no one was wrestling any more. Everyone was looking at me. Kevin, seemingly the leader of the group, asked, “Will you show us?”

I felt like a fucking movie star in that moment. A naked movie star, but still a star. This was my moment. All these big, amazing, friendly guys, and they wanted something from me. Something I could give them!

For the next hour, I was showing them some basics, and they were practicing on each other. The erections had all subsided. This was serious but fun business. The nakedness normalized in my mind. Odd, I know, but it was as if we were naked as God created us, and it was all just fine.

Kevin called for attention. Everyone stopped what they were doing and sat down on the sofa, chairs or on the floor. “Now it’s that time of the day we’ve all been waiting for. Triple-T, Tough guy Toughness Testing.”

I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of Triple-T. It sounded like something painful, or something that I’d be able to do only painfully. I was imagining arm wrestling. It was probably going to be something like that.

For my benefit, Jason explained to the group. “As you all know, we need a way to bolster our toughness. Our resistance to pain. But we don’t want to suffer pain or risk injury in the process. Forty years ago, the founders of the club came up with a technique that fits the bill so perfectly, we still practice it today. Glans rubbing.”

I didn’t know what a glans was, but I was pretty sure ‘rubbing’ something wasn’t going to be good. Now, I wasn’t sure I should be here. But everyone was smiling. They weren’t looking like they were going to undergo some kind of test, some kind of ordeal. Oh, and something else, at least half of the kids were erect!

Before I could figure anything out, the guys started pairing off. It turns out there were an odd number of us, so I just sat there wondering what was going to happen. It took only seconds to find out.

In each pair of kids, one laid down on the sheets on the floor, and the other knelt before him. Here comes the shocking part: The kneeling guys grabbed the laying down guys’ dicks, and started putting massage oil on them. Right on their dicks! Most of the guys were hard. Those that weren’t were getting gentle little handjobs to get them erect.

Soon, everyone laying down was erect. Most of the guys kneeling or sitting next to them were also erect. What a sight to behold!

One of the sitting guys leaned over and clicked something on his phone. “OK, three minutes,” he announced.

The kneeling or sitting guys were holding the laying down guys’ dicks with one hand wrapped around their shafts. At the three-minute announcement, they began rubbing the oiled palms of their hands over the tips of the laying down guys’ dicks.

Everyone on the floor was squirming, moaning, yelling and laughing. I had no idea what they were feeling, but it was certainly intense. This went on and on. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you I had a rock-hard erection just watching this.

Toward the end of the second minute, the yelling and squirming settled down somewhat. The guys were calming down. One of the guys started grunting, and ejaculated, right there in front of me.

It was all I could do to not start masturbating right there.

Ding. The three-minute timer went off. There was a sigh of relief throughout the room.

The laying down and sitting up people changed positions.

I would have been content to just keep watching. I knew I’d be wanking big time the minute I got home after witnessing this. But a guy came over to me and said that I shouldn’t be left out of the fun. I couldn’t have agreed more.

I took my position on the floor.

“Three minutes” was announced.

My big guy started gently rubbing my rock-hard, but little cock. At the very moment he started, it was nearly unbearable. I had no idea! I’m sure you, dear reader, have experienced this, but I hadn’t until then. What a crazy tickle. Not pain, as you know, but un-fucking-bearable. But kind of sexy, too. I knew what I had to do. I had to lay there and take it.

Now, I suppose I could have refused, or gotten up off the floor or something, but I knew that would mark me as a sort of looser. I’ll bet these guys would have accepted that, but there was no way I’d give up. I had to handle it, no matter what.

And it was hard – I mean difficult. I was hard, erect as I had ever been in my life, and in terrible anguish. Yet, wonderful anguish, if that makes any sense. Pretty soon, the feeling shifted. It wasn’t quite as unbearable, and started to feel like I was going to involuntarily pee, or ejaculate – at the same time. I had never felt such a thing.

Now, the ‘gonna cum’ feeling was building up more and more, but I still had to pee, too. I was going to ejaculate. There was nothing I could do about it.

“Ding.”

The big guy let go of my penis. I was so close to cumming that it actually pulsed a couple of times, but nothing came out.

We switched roles. Now I was sitting next to my big guy. Three minutes was announced, and I went to work. It was the first time I had wrapped my fingers around such a big cock. It felt amazing. I hadn’t realized how warm another guy’s penis could be. How soft the skin was, and how hard it was inside. As I started in on the glans rubbing. His face contorted all up, he squirmed, he moaned, but he didn’t quit on me. No, instead, he ejaculated all over my hands. I was delighted to see so much cum. It was thick and white, and there was a lot of it. Not clear and just a couple of drops of clear liquid like mine. I looked forward to the day when I could cum like that.

All in all, it was the best afternoon of my life.

We met every Thursday, and I was always so up for it, literally. Sometimes I’d end up ejaculating, mostly not. Some of the guys let out involuntary streams of pee. That was always problematic, because we could not, absolutely could not, get anything on the carpet. The sheets could soak it mostly up, but still, we had to be careful.

In time, I grew bigger, topping out at 5’11” with a reasonable six-inch penis, and a nice forest of hair on my crotch. Perhaps to make up for my late start, I grew a mustache, then a bit of a beard when I was only seventeen.

One day started out like all the others, but then Jason wanted to discuss something. The group was considering a girl. Suki was her name. She was of Samoan descent. She was rounded but not fat. She was also quite tall. She was a fighter, but always as a defender, not an instigator. She was a good fit for the club, other than being female.

I was all in favor of adding females. My heart was racing, thinking about having a naked girl among us. I was wondering how a girl would participate in glans rubbing. We had a vote. To my astonishment, it was unanimous, even the outspokenly gay guys were in favor. I suppose it does make sense. Why on Earth would we exclude females if they could be ‘tough guys’ also?

The first meeting with Suki was awkward at first. We all kept all our clothes on. Fortunately, Suki is a gregarious individual. She simply said, “I know you guys all get naked. Don’t let me stop you,” and with that, she lifted up her T-shirt revealing that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her pendulous brown breasts with jet black nipples were amazing. I couldn’t get my clothes off fast enough. Same with the other guys. Everyone was naked within a minute, even Suki. She was beautiful – I mean to me. Some might say she was too heavyset, but I wasn’t complaining! She also shaved her crotch hair, as did some of the guys. Pretty much all the guys, including the gay ones, were erect. Maybe their erections were due to seeing their male buddies reacting to this female. I don’t know. I was just happy to be here in heaven.

We wrestled for a while. There were more erections than normal. Suki took it all in stride, as if play fighting with naked and erect guys is just another ordinary activity.

Then it was time for the Triple-T. No one knew quite how to proceed. There was a long moment of awkward silence.

Suki broke the silence. “Now, from what my brother has told me,” Suki began, quickly explaining that he didn’t tell her anything about the ritual until after she had been confirmed as a member, “you guys have some sort of test…”

One of the guys started telling her the details. He was blushing severely. She interrupted him. “I already know, I’m all in.”

“Now, I can’t speak for all women, but I don’t think we have an exact equivalent of glans rubbing. However, after we orgasm, there is such a thing as too much clit rubbing. I think that may be similar. I’d love to experience that.”

I just can’t tell you how lucky I was to be paired with Suki that day. I was the first ever to rub her to multiple orgasms, and then keep going, causing her to moan, squirm and scream with the rest of us.

When it was my turn, I came almost immediately. I really tried not to, but the moment her hefty fingers wrapped around my penis, I knew the effort was useless. I ejaculated within the first thirty seconds. She was delighted, claiming this is the first time she had seen sperm in person. She cautiously licked some from her fingers, said ‘yum’ and then licked more off her hand.

By the time I had graduated from high school, the tough guys were almost half female. The school won a national award for being the school with the least number of violent incidents.

Topless in Buffalo

I have always felt that it is unfair that men can go topless on a hot summer day, and women can’t. How weird is that? Well, I’m a woman, and I always wanted to know what it feels like to go topless, to feel the wind on your chest, to get an all-over tan. And, I have a distinct advantage: Small boobs. I’m not quite flat-chested, but close. And, that’s never bothered me, and certainly hasn’t hurt my sex life. Several guys and girls I have been with say they find my little pancakes with a mint on top absolutely attractive. OK, I’ll go with that:) My current girlfriend has large, pendulous breasts, and I love that. Go figure.

Topless with small breasts (tiny tits) in Buffalo, New York

Over weeks, months really, I hatched a plan. I patiently waited until today, the first hot summer day in Buffalo, New York, 87 miles from where I live. I had cut my somewhat unruly hair short two weeks ago. It was short for a girl, but would be considered just a bit longer than typical for a guy. In fact, my hair kind of looked all crazy, like Einstein, but not gray. Being part-Asian, my hair is black.

Yesterday, I bought some men’s shorts, and a very masculine T-shirt with a beer commercial on front. I got some men’s shoes, and some of those athletic socks they wear, which us women seldom wear. Finally, I needed a new bike helmet. Pink would be a dead give-away, so I found a black one at a thrift store for $4.

I changed into my new clothes, leaving my ridiculous bra off. I call it ridiculous because I’ve never needed it. My small breasts do not sag. I just wear a bra because that’s what we girls do. But not today.

I left the hotel room dressed as a guy, unloaded my bike, checked the air pressure in the tires, and got on. I started to ride through the neighborhood, and soon I was downtown. It was hot, and I was already sweating pretty well. So, being the guy that I was today, I took off my T-shirt and tucked it into my handlebar pack. No one looked up. After all, I really looked like a guy, maybe just a guy who is kind of pudgy on top. The cars just kept passing by. The pedestrians were all business-as-usual. But was I nervous? Hell yes!

I started to ride, and for the first time in my adult life, I felt the wind whistling gently past my chest, my whole chest, as I rode along. I felt the sun beating down on my back. It all felt so beautiful, my eyes teared up. But, guys don’t cry, so I held it back, and kept riding through temporarily bleary eyes.

All in all, I rode five miles through the streets of downtown Buffalo. I kept looking for recognition. Oh, I knew no one would recognize me. Plus, just to be sure, I was wearing my helmet and sunglasses. That’s why I came to a place 87 miles away. But I was waiting for someone to say, “Hey, she’s a girl, and she’s topless!” It never happened. Everyone mistook me for a guy.

I figured my back had received as much sun as was good, so it was time to go back to the hotel room. Now I can’t explain why that experiment made me so horny. Perhaps it was feeling the fresh air on my body. Perhaps it was being almost naked in public. But the minute I got in the door, I threw off my helmet, shoes, socks and shorts, and my hands were all over my nipples and clit. I orgasmed in seconds, and then several more times during the next half hour.

I don’t know if I’ll ever do the experiment again, but maybe. Maybe I’ll even go a step further – totally nude. I might like to try a nude beach someday. For that, I won’t have to disguise myself at all. Hmmm. Interesting.

I want my hair to grow back. The whole thing feels kind of embarrassing now, and my hair is a reminder. When people ask about my short hair, I won’t tell them about the experiment. Instead, I’ll just say I wanted to try a low-maintenance cut. This evening, my girlfriend wanted to know where I was today. When reluctantly I told her what I had done, she started licking my vagina with remarkable vigor and I came several times.

Butler With Benefits

I’ll admit I’m quite wealthy. It started with my great-grandfather, who was a cobbler during the great depression. It turns out that repair businesses did well while everyone else suffered. People couldn’t buy new shoes, so he had lots of customers.

He invested the money in buying the building he was in and charging rent to the other small retail businesses in his building. Then he bought more buildings. You can imagine that his children and their children, and finally my generation have followed his footsteps and all done very, very well in commercial real estate. For four generations, our family has also been heavily philanthropic. Don’t worry, we can afford it! It’s more than just philanthropy. It’s a love for all humans – and animals. I was taught to be polite, kind and caring to everyone since I was a baby.

So, here I am, otherwise a typical trust-fund baby. For instance, on my 18th birthday, I was given a hotel. A one-hundred-eleven room hotel at 111 Broadway. Really! I didn’t pay much attention to it. I have managers, lawyers and accountants to take care of all that.

I was also given something else on my 18th birthday. My ‘man,’ that’s what I call my butler, who has been with me for 8 years. Jonathan used to work directly for my father. He is a sort of combination chauffeur, personal assistant and dresser. He arranges my air travel, handles my email, and even selects my clothing in the morning. That way, I can spend more time on business. I mean, I could retire right now, and just live off my assets. But somehow, my family has got me so trained to stay focused on growing ‘the business’ as they call it, that I can’t imagine doing anything else. Well, I did go to college and get an MBA, but that was just part of focusing on the business. It’s all about philanthropy and I can do it better with even more money, right?

But anyway, back to my 18th birthday. So that evening, Jonathan comes in and says he has something he wants to tell me. I figured he was going to give me some cufflinks or something. And even though Jonathan and I have become close friends, I was thinking, OK, I’ll be polite and graciously accept whatever birthday gift he has for me.

But no! He tells me he used to perform a certain service for my father. He didn’t quite explain it at first. I was starting to imagine the worst. Like even though my father is a very morally correct and kind man, I was thinking, “What kind of service? Eviction agent? Supplier of drugs? Hit man?”

He slowly, and somewhat embarrassingly explained the service. He said that for a while before my father was married, he was so involved in business that he didn’t have time for dating. Plus, most of the women who came into his life were gold diggers. So Jonathan took care of my father’s sexual needs. I was thinking, ‘You mean, he procures prostitutes?’

But no, it was something more direct. Then I understood! Jonathan was satisfying my father’s needs directly! He was giving him handjobs! Geez! Some things you don’t want to hear. I was simultaneously, fascinated and grossed out. But something else too. I started to feel a certain rising feeling in my penis. My god, I was getting erect just hearing about Jonathan giving my dad handjobs.

Jonathan went on to explain that my dad continued to receive occasional hand jobs after he was married. And get this, sometimes Jonathan gave my mother clit jobs and even sucked her clit. He just came out and told me that.

In a way, I shouldn’t have been surprised. My parents have always been open and experimental about sex. Like, we went to nude beaches occasionally since before I can remember. And, I have accidentally seen my parents having sex, which didn’t seem to faze them. And they have caught me wanking. Which also didn’t seem to faze them. But Jonathan, that was shocking news!

So here’s the deal. Jonathan told me in no uncertain terms that if I’d like handjobs, that is part of the service he offers. (And all for $130,000/year. I should give him a raise).

For the first few weeks after I turned 18, I did not take him up on his offer. Then one evening, after flirting unsuccessfully with a beautiful Asian girl who is my mother’s secretary, I was all horned up, and Jonathan talked me into trying his ‘service.’ It was a bit awkward at first. In order to make me comfortable, as I stripped, so did he. This is Jonathan I’m talking about. I’ve never seen him without his tie, his immaculate jacket and pressed pants, and polished shoes. Turns out he is a great looking guy for a 50-year old. Slim, just a bit shorter than me at 5’7,” and with that beautiful African ancestry. I’m only half-African, approximately.

It’s not true what they say about all black men having big dicks. His is average size, or maybe even a bit less, pretty much like mine, although he is not circumcised and I am.

Anyway, he did give me a beautiful handjob that evening. Even though I didn’t touch his dick at all – he said he didn’t want reciprocation, he did get nicely erect, which I enjoyed seeing. Jonathan has wanked me a hundred times since. Somehow, he always brings something interesting to the table. In all the times he has jerked me off, no two have been the same. And, he seems to read my mood. Sometimes I like something kind of rough, like rubbing the palm of his hand over my glans to make me squirm. Sometimes he is so gentle, I can hardly tell if he is touching my frenulum or not – what a fantastic tickling sensation that is! Sometimes he massages my balls very light and lovingly. Sometimes he squishes the hell out of them, which I absolutely enjoy when I’m in the right mood. Sometimes, I jerk him off. That’s right, I enjoy giving as much as getting, and he really does like the reciprocation.

There have been a few women in my life. Jonathan’s service doesn’t interfere at all. In fact, I told my best friend (with benefits) Susan about Jonathan’s service, and she wanted to see it. So one evening after coming home from the office, there was Susan and Jonathan on the sofa, naked as the day they were born. She as white as vanilla ice cream, he as dark as the best chocolate. They were idly stroking each others genitals as I arrived, and the invitation was obvious. We all masturbated together in a great big pile of happiness.

Well, that’s enough rambling from me for now. Have fun, and I hope all your families can become as successful as mine has been.

Non-Sexual Male-Male Testicle Massage

So I heard through the grapevine that there’s this fellow who does a wonderful testicle massage. While I consider myself mostly straight, I was told I really ought to make an appointment with this guy, his work is supposedly fantastic.

So, I made the appointment. He was to come to my house on Friday at 2pm. I waited the three days until Friday with mixed, but rather strong feelings. One was a bit of fear. What did I get myself into? The other was absolute horny excitement.

Finally, 2:10pm Friday, a knock on my apartment door. He came in, dragging a massage table and sheets. I closed all the curtains, and told him we have to be quiet. I didn’t want my neighbors to know exactly what was going on. If they thought I was getting an ordinary massage, that would be good enough for me.

This fellow was about 5’10’, about 60 years old, balding, a touch on the heavy side, and as ordinary-looking as can be. Not a sexual turn-on by any stretch of the imagination, for me, at least.

He had an assuring personality. I don’t know why exactly, but I calmed down right away. Perhaps he used some hypnotic suggestion to help me get in the right state.

And so, he started with about 10 minutes of what was an ordinary, although somewhat perfunctory massage. While I was on my stomach, among the other things he did was brush his fingertips over the back inside edges of my thighs. This gave me a semi-hardon.

When it was time to flip over, I was concerned about him seeing me partially erect. He assured me. ‘Most of my clients get hardons at various parts of the massage, and any state at any time is absolutely normal. Some have erections even before we start. Some stay soft the whole time.’

So, after flipping over – totally naked by the way, and him seeing my hardon for a few minutes, I became totally OK with it, as he worked on my arms, shoulders, feet, and worked up my legs. The hardon became harder, probably mostly because I knew what he was here for-a testicle massage, after all!

And then, slowly, ever so slowly, he essentially tickled my sack. But it wasn’t ticklish. It was, well… wonderful. The tickling lasted a very long time, several minutes at least. I don’t think I’ve ever been so hard without having my dick touched directly.

I noticed that the tickling became a bit firmer. Yes, hmmm, he was fondling my balls. He was very gently squeezing each one at the same time, one in each hand. Sort of a pulsing method. Beautiful! I’ve never felt anything quite like it!

But he wasn’t done yet. He told me that he would slowly squeeze harder and harder, and I was to let him know how much was too much.

It was a very complete testicle massage. He handled them this way and that. Generally one in each hand at the same time. Generally symmetrically, but sometimes in an alternating pattern. Often the pulsing, but all sorts of other rubbing and squeezing. Sometimes, he did hit that limit at which I had to say, ‘ah, a little lighter, please.’ But, I was surprised how much squeezing I could take. And, like the expert he evidently is, he never hit the sensitive spots that would have been painful.

And then it happened. Without him ever touching my penis, I ejaculated! It was one of the most amazing orgasms of my life. And afterward, I was still hard and wanting more.

He didn’t give much more. A few minutes of very gentle fondling as I cooled down. He helped me get up, thanked me, collected his $120, and was gone – just like that!

I jerked off just moments after he left and came again.

The next day, I noticed something that I can only call a ‘healthy glow’ feeling in my balls. It’s like I notice they are there – I can feel them. It’s almost a horny feeling, but no, something different, almost a feeling of youth or some kind of special fitness. Go figure! $120 is a lot, but I went ahead and called him to schedule another appointment for this Friday.

In summary, I can say it isn’t really a sexual thing. It’s more like sensual. Very sensual. It wouldn’t have mattered who gave me that massage. Could have been male or female, any age, any weight, etc.

He never explicitly said so, but I believe his attitude is that it is a theraputic massage, one for health, and if the client happens to enjoy it on another level, well, that’s just fine with him. And if an ejaculation happens, it is just part of the process.

If you ever have a chance to get a testicle massage from an expert in the field, I highly recommend it!

How to Find Out if a Friend is Gay

Someone on Quora asked, “How can you find out if a friend is gay?” I’m assuming the question was because the writer would like to become involved with a potentially gay friend, but was afraid of consequences if his guess was wrong.

Here’s what I wrote:

You might ask something like, “Are you offended by gay people?” or “What do you think about the LGBTQ movement?” The answers should be interesting. Keep in mind that some gay and bi people are so closeted that they’ll pretend to be offended, maybe even say disparaging remarks.

If that scares you, try asking about a gay character in film or on TV, like Kurt Hummel of Glee. Like, “Did you see Glee? What did you think of Rachel Berry (a straight person)? How about Finn Hudson (also straight)? How about Kurt Hummel (gay)?” If all you get is generic responses, you could go a step further, “Did Kurt being gay bother you?”

I think you can take it from there!

Surprising Kid

This boy was a great kid. Raised well. Quiet and polite. Good-looking too. You don’t have to be gay to admire the look of tall, skinny, blond boys of Nordic descent who wear their hair long.

I’ve known his mother for quite a while. In fact, we dated back before he was born.

Now, having just graduated from high school, he didn’t know what he wanted to do. She was secretly relieved he didn’t want to go to college, because after his father left, they were in poverty and she could never help pay for his education. She hatched a plan, which turned out quite well, and all she had to do was one thing. She suggested he ride with me for a week.

I wasn’t at all interested in having a kid tag along, but I did it because it seemed important to her.

Monday morning, I pulled up in front of their shabby little garden apartment and he met me promptly in front with an eager greeting. If he was reluctant to participate in his mother’s experiment, he didn’t show it to me.

It was a half-hour drive to the first appointment. Trying not to offend him, I let him know in no uncertain terms that he was to be as invisible as possible. I figured the last thing my clients would want is to deal with an 18-year-old kid. Other than that, it was mostly small talk on the ride.

We got there and he helped me drag the air conditioner out of the truck, and unboxed it while I set up the lift and removed the old air conditioner from the motorhome. I appreciated the help. Maybe dragging him along wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

I had asked him to be unnoticeable, but what was the first thing he did? He started a conversation with the motorhome owner. The client seemed to like the kid. It kept the client out of my hair while I finished the installation, and so that, too, turned out alright.

We went to the other appointments of the day – trailer brakes, a generator that wouldn’t start, and sealing a roof. Driving between jobs, the kid told me he admired my truck. It is something I’m proud of, and so it was nice to hear him speak about how much he thought it was cool. He went on to call it a ‘Swiss army knife’ of vehicles. It’s true. Although the truck is big, and sometimes annoying to take into narrow driveways or to park in tight places, it carries a lift, welding equipment, and every tool you could possibly need in the RV repair business.

The week wore on. Having the kid around turned out to be good. He was helpful. He would just do grunt work, such as spreading cat litter on an oil leak and sweeping it up, without even being asked. He was intelligent too. For instance, I’d be on a roof, and without me requesting it, he’d climb up the ladder with a 7/16″ wrench, handing it to me right when I needed it.

I have to admit too, I had been kind of lonely rolling around in that old truck by myself. I enjoyed the chatter between jobs.

Until one day, he stopped me dead in my tracks by asking whether I ever masturbate.

We were at a traffic light at the moment he asked. I think I turned red in the face, and was concerned that the people stopped next to us saw me, maybe even heard him ask the question. Geez! How does one answer that?

I must have formed three or four answers in my head before I finally said, “Well, sure, doesn’t everyone?”

Slowly, he wedged masturbation into several conversations during the next week or so. I gradually opened up becoming more used to these conversations, even enjoying them. Secretly, I had jerked off the past several evenings, remember our conversations. He had admitted having phimosis, and seemed to want to know how ‘ordinary’ people jerk off.

I acted like I knew what that was, but didn’t have a clue. I tried to look it up on the internet that evening, but couldn’t remember the word. I tried “flamotis” and all sorts of things, and so didn’t find an answer. I was very, very curious. What could possibly be wrong with the kid’s penis? Or was it something affecting his semen production? Something about his balls maybe?

The next day we had a case where the client wasn’t around. I was replacing the CV joints in a classic old GMC motorhome. I admitted to the kid that I didn’t know what phimosis was.

He said, “Here, look.” With that, he stood up, unbuckled his belt and lowered his pants and underwear. He grabbed his penis pulling it forward and showed me.

My heart leapt into my throat. I would not have expected that reaction. I was suddenly feeling very horny, and from a kid, an 18-year-old boy! Who knew that I had any homosexuality in me at all? Oh, sure, I goofed around with the kids in my neighborhood when growing up once or twice. I remember giving and getting a couple of blowjobs. They were alright. I kind of enjoyed the experiences, if also feeling guilty about them. Mostly, I played with the girls as I was growing up. I knew much more about pussy than dick and by the time I met the girl who became my wife, I was already experienced in the ways to please her. I still miss her. To this day, I’m afraid of small cars.

But I’m getting off topic. There he was showing me his penis. He acted as ordinary as if he was showing me a pocket knife. My heart was unaccountably racing. I didn’t understand what he was trying to show me. I saw a nicely formed uncircumcised penis, with the foreskin totally covering the tip, and coming to a point.

I had seen uncircumcised penises before. Who hasn’t seen some online porn involving an uncircumcised guy? He must have seen my confused look so he came right out and told me: “The foreskin doesn’t pull back.” He demonstrated by pulling his foreskin somewhat. I was starting to understand. So that’s phimosis. The foreskin covers the tip of the dick and can’t be retracted.

His pants were back up in an instant. I didn’t know how to react. I didn’t know what to say. I turned back to the brake rotor which I was putting back in place.

That evening had me jerking off big-time in response to that little scene earlier in the day.

Nothing more was said for the next couple of days about phimosis, although the kid did bring up masturbation a couple more times. So did I. It was mostly him asking silly questions, like “Do you think it’s OK to jerk off more than once per day?”

I would respond, telling him things like ‘In my day, we weren’t very open about sexual matters. I discovered masturbating on my own. I wish times then were like times now. We were all isolated and afraid.”

By now, the kid was on my payroll. He had become officially my apprentice. To my delight, he was loving the work, and never complained even when there was something repetitive or difficult to be done.

He started asking to see my penis. First it was very shrouded, like, “I wish I knew what a normal penis was like.” or “I’ve seen circumcised men online, of course, but have never seen a circumcised dick in person.”

Within a week, it became blatant. “Hey, when are you going to let me see your cock?”

I kept refusing. It just wasn’t right. Was it? I mean, here I was more than three times his age, and I was having strong sexual feelings about him. In a way, I was starting to feel that having invited him to ride with me was a mistake. This sexuality was making me very uncomfortable. At night, I was jerking off resulting in crashing orgasms, with memories of looking so briefly at the kid’s dick in my mind. I was fantasizing about sexual activities with him.

One morning, I asked why he didn’t just get circumcised. He said he had read about adult circumcision. It requires a painful recovery. I offered to give him time off so he could get that done. He winced, saying that he would never, ever let anyone cut on his dick.

I asked whether he’d rather go through life with phimosis. He replied that he’d rather die than get surgery. It’s true, in other conversations, I had discovered that he’s deathly afraid of the medical system. He hadn’t had a physical exam since before he could remember. His fear of doctors was like my fear of small cars.

He said that he didn’t have to go through life with phimosis. He had read about exercises that would eventually stretch his foreskin as long as he was patient.

I was like, “Ok, so do the exercises.”

He replied that he couldn’t.

Now I was confused. “Why not?”

“I’ve tried a few times, but I just won’t pull on the foreskin enough to do the job. I kind of hurts a little bit, so I stop. I need someone to do it for me.”

I’ll bet you know there this conversation is going. He asked me to do it. I refused, knowing secretly that I’d like nothing better than to get my hands on his penis. Over the next few days, he kept bringing it up. Finally, he was practically begging me to do it. I kept pretending that I didn’t want to, because I knew that… Well, what did I know? Was there something wrong with helping a kid in need? Was it gay? Af it it was gay, what was so wrong with that? Would my wife look down on me from heaven with shock, horror? No, I knew her. She’d be amused. Actually, if she were alive today, she’d probably talk me into it. She’d want to watch. Or participate. That’s the kind of girl she was. Very bold and forward and I loved her for it.

He wore me down. One Thursday driving from the first to the second job of the day, we arranged that I’d take him home to my place and do his exercises for him. I was so nervous and jittery the rest of the day I could hardly work. I actually dropped a screw into the panel behind a refrigerator and had to spend time fishing it back out. The kid seemed kind of nervous too. What a long afternoon it was!

Finally, finally, we were in my place. I offered him a beer. He refused, saying he wasn’t going to follow in his deadbeat father’s footsteps. He didn’t even want one sip of anything alcoholic. Good for him! I handed him an orange juice, and got myself a beer. I couldn’t drink it. My throat was tight. My hands were shaking a bit. Weird, eh?

“Well, how are we going to do this?” I asked.

“Um, let’s go in your bedroom.”

We went in. He started pulling off his shirt.

“You don’t have to take off everything. You can just pull your pants down,” I offered. As soon as I said it, I figuratively kicked myself. Of course I’d like to see the kid all naked.

He said, “No, it’s probably better to do this one hundred percent,” and continued removing his shirt. Then his shoes and socks, then his belt his pants, and finally his underwear.

He was erect! The minute his pants were off, his penis bobbed right up at a 45-degree angle. There wasn’t any hair there. The kid was evidently into manscaping. The skin was quite white, especially his small, tight scrotum. His penis was smaller than I would have expected. Not much wider than my thumb.

My heart was racing! I was visibly shaking. I could hardly stand up.

“C’mon, you too!” I was surprised, and delighted. I was always body dysmorphic, thinking I’m not very good looking. But, he wanted me naked. I pretended to balk, but he insisted, and soon, my clothes were entirely off also. I was erect. I too, had been manscaping my genital region. Somehow, I was slightly embarrassed for him to know that.

The boy looked at me, and quietly said, “Beautiful.”

Who knew? Later, I came to realize that this boy was not only mostly homosexual, but totally into older guys. And not just any older guy. He loved me. Right from the first day!

As our relationship grew, I knew there was something I had to do. I was dreading the day. I had to let his mother know what was going on. It’s not like I was a pedophile or anything. The kid was old enough. But still, it was highly unconventional. And old guy and a young kid. And both male, for heaven’s sake!

I invited her to lunch. I sheepishly started trying to bring up the subject of me and her son. Just as I was taking my first crack at opening that conversation, she said, “I know about you and Tony.”

Hearing her say that scared the crap out of me. She said it calmly, but what was going to happen next?

“And I approve,” she quickly added, evidently seeing my agitation.

She went on to explain that this had been part of her master plan, that it went farther than she expected, yet she was delighted.

She knew her son needed a trade. She knew I was in a lucrative business. She figured her son was mechanically inclined. She went on to say that she also suspected, more.

She knew that I had been without what she called ‘company’ for several years. She knew that her son was gay. She knew he seemed attracted to older men. She thought, maybe, if everything worked out just right…

So now, Tony lives with me in my house. We continue to ride together to all our clients. He has continued to grow into the RV repair business, knowing almost as much about the repairs and installations as I do. Oddly, we seldom argue. I think it may be because of the vastly different perspectives, him being so young, and me so old. Then too, his mother raised him well.

As to his mother, she and I have recently been kind of half-dating. She’s almost as bold, outgoing and adventurous as my wife was. She and I haven’t had sex, but we have masturbated each other. What a joy!

Now, I’m not one to do things behind anyone’s back. Before I did anything with his mom, I asked Tony whether it would be OK. Not only was it alright, he was very supportive of the idea. To my shock, he suggested all three of us could have a masturbation session together some day.

When I told her about his idea, she smiled big, and said she’d love that. Fact is, so would I. I’m sure it will happen soon.

So what about the kid’s phimosis? From that first day, we worked on that. He laid down on my bed. I pulled up my rolling chair next to the bed while my heart continued to race. My knees were so weak I had to sit down. I gingerly put my thumbs and fingertips on his foreskin and pulled down slightly.

“Ouch.”

I wouldn’t have expected it would be that sensitive. Phimosis is a real, and bothersome condition. He encouraged me to pull down a little bit again, even though it was mildly painful for him.

He was still totally erect, so I guessed it wasn’t too painful. I, sitting in the chair, was totally erect also. I didn’t do anything about it. After all, this was about Tony, not me. But he was staring at my dick like it was the only thing in the world.

I worked the next several minutes, balancing pulling down on his foreskin to the point where it hurt him, but not too much. Suddenly, he ejaculated, writhing all over my bed.

I was so delighted that I ejaculated a moment later without even being touched. I must say, it was the first hands-free ejaculation of my life (but not the last.) It was a very strong orgasm.

Days turned into weeks. We faithfully did his exercises every morning and evening. For the longest time, the exercises ended with him ejaculating prematurely. He’d then turn his attention to me, jerking me off to a crashing orgasm. Sometimes, after doing me, I come back to him, jerking him off in an ordinary way so he could cum again. He was often good for twice in a row. Sometimes I could do that too, but generally, once was enough for me.

We experimented with other sexual techniques. We kind of liked giving each other blowjobs, but we mutually agreed they didn’t measure up to our lovely – and loving – handjobs.

Our experiments with anal intercourse turned out to be non-experiments. I really like the look of his puckered pink asshole, but it’s small. Maybe because he’s tall and skinny, but there’s no way a guy could get a cock in there. Well, maybe that’s an exaggeration. I’ll bet he could be buttfucked, but he’s not into it, and neither am I. We both very much enjoy me putting a finger in his anus. He’ll finger me too.

For the longest time, there was no way he could buttfuck me, not that I would have wanted that. I’m just a mutual masturbation guy, through and through. The phimosis would have prevented anal intercourse. I don’t know what would have happened if he tried putting it in someone’s vagina, but we never found out. In time, the phimosis did reduce. He can now pop his foreskin back behind his fully erect glans, but then it still takes a minute to get it to pop back into place. It no longer gives him any pain at all, but we’re still doing the exercises. Might as well do it one hundred percent. Doing things ‘one hundred percent’ is one of Tony’s favorite expressions.

As to his mother joining us, all three of us are excited by the idea. However, we haven’t quite made the move to make it happen yet. Maybe we’re afraid of the dynamics it could set off. Personally, I believe we all have great personalities, and our relationships will only improve. I’m sure it will happen soon.